Summer of Lilacs
by Music Intuition
Summary: The last conscious words she heard were with both their eyes closed and their lips an inch apart. - FeelingShipping; Green Oak & Yellow.


_**Author's Note:** I do like this ship. I do like it._

_This is based on the song "The Song of Purple Summer" from Spring Awakening. Not the newer version, but the original. To find it, search "Song of Purple Summer Demo" on Youtube, and it should be the first one to come up. Hopefully. If not, well, there's another one where the screenshot is a girl's picture colored purple. That one should work as well._

_Enjoy the nice, peaceful song and writing!_

…

…

**Summer of Lilacs**

…

…

_And all shall fade  
the flowers of spring  
The world and all the sorrow  
At the heart of everything  
_

…

…

Trellises of ivy covered the houses' sides, the worn grey paneling reflecting the sky's turbulent swirls. Meanwhile, on the earth far below, the blusters wove the scent of wildflowers into the course grass that covered the countryside.

A single wagon heaved over the side of a hill, a pair of ponyta guiding it effortlessly. No cars in this part of the country. No roads, for that matter. The old professor who lived in the big house said that the cars and trucks scared off all the wild pokemon. And so, instead of the harsh torque of automobiles, the only noises were squeaky wheels on gravel and bird noises from the line of trees.

From within the carriage, a girl with a blond ponytail smiled softly and gazed out the window, glancing round for that familiar head of brown hair, for those clever eyes and slightly pouting lips. He would welcome her to his home, take her bags, explain her new job – as if this even qualified as an actual job. She loved the land, and she loved the work. No mention of the boy himself.

Yes, this would be a good summer.

And when the little wagon ground to a halt and she sprang out, she felt his presence rather than saw his face. Running, smiling, laughing. Embracing him for the first time in months.

She felt a single tear soak into her shirt as they pulled away from their hug. When she asked about it, he quickly and firmly denied it. But she vowed to be more careful with the boy's tender heart from then on.

She must remember that every beginning (including this one) started with an ending.

…

…

_But still it stays  
the butterfly sings  
And opens purple summer  
With a flutter of its wings  
_

…

…

They spent the first day of summer hard at work. After all, the boy had an important job, and so the girl determinedly decided to help him. Prove her worth. And she was good at it, too. Her gift with pokemon showed as they flocked to her heels and crowded around her. As the pair of humans walked through the barn and the fields, she didn't shy away, not even from the largest of companions.

And by the end of the day, he had a look of pride in his eye. He was happy for her (he'd never been jealous), and it showed in his face, and in the hand he put on her back, bringing forth a gentle blush.

That was how it went every day. There were always hungry Pokemon to feed, and there were always agitated Pokemon to exercise. Luckily, the work itself was fun, and both enjoyed the company of the pokemon – and each other.

Most memorable, however, were the evenings; the times that they relaxed, completely drained from the day, and talked. Or didn't talk, and simply watched the sunsets in silence.

And all the while, she tried to figure out how to say what she wanted to tell him.

…

…

_The earth will wave with corn  
the gray-fly choir will mourn  
And mares will neigh  
With stallions that they mate  
Foals they've borne  
And all shall know the wonder  
Of purple summer_

…

…

Once, after a particularly hot day, he took her swimming. There was a little spot in the woods, he said. A bit of a hike, but the water was deep and cold. They slipped into swimsuits and set off for the river.

The trees shrouded the little swimming hole in deep shadows. She hesitated, staring in wonder at the deep blue water, but he gently took her forearm and guided her forward.

When he peeled off his t-shirt, she blushed and refused to look. He didn't pry, but looked away respectfully until she was prepared to get in the deep blue water. The shirt and shorts slipped off, revealing her tiny frame and frail-looking limbs. Gingerly, she poked one foot into the water, mouth forming a tiny 'o'.

It was very cold.

She stood back, hugging herself for warmth, and watched as he walked back, then did a running jump. She yelped when he hit the water, splashing her knees and ankles. It took a minute, but eventually he bobbed back up to the surface, smiling a rare smile.

She hadn't seen that smile since… before.

This was his spot, she understood. This was the place that he had grown up. He'd probably jumped into this little pool in the woods since he was young. So him bringing her here was something special.

She jumped in after that.

…

…

_And yet, I wait  
the swallow brings  
A song to hard to follow  
That no one else can sing  
_

…

…

Whenever he got into a bad mood, he would go on long walks. Once, she tried going with him.

He didn't want to talk about it, he said. But she could tell that he was thinking about _her_ again. Disquieting thoughts, for so young a girl to love. She didn't like to know that he was thinking about someone else.

She followed behind him down the lane, yelling at him to wait up. Even though she was running, he still walked faster, with his long, determined strides. By the time she caught up, evening was falling and they were far from the house covered in ivy.

In front of her was a field with wildflowers and bushes covered with purple buds.

She gazed as he pouted, meters away. Finally, she walked over and grasped his hand. Her tiny fingers barely made it to the middle of his palm. He looked up, startled, but she met his gaze squarely. And finally, he accepted the gesture.

Together they stared out across a field of lilacs and listened to the bird sounds. So simple, so free. They both probably wished that they could be like that.

Simple was best, perhaps. If only she could use a few simple words and tell him.

…

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_The fences sway  
the porches swing  
The clouds begin to thunder  
Crickets wander, murmuring_

…

…

Sometimes, it stormed, and they would huddle in the big barn like little children.

She hadn't realized how playful he could be sometimes, making up games like a child. Perhaps it just took the right company. Maybe that quirky touch of lightheartedness had been hiding all these years.

She always felt distant, though, like they were just one step away from kissing, or one touch from falling down together in the hay. It was the pokemon that kept her head there, in the end. The sounds all around them reminded her that they needed to be discreet.

Also, they reminded her that it was still too soon. For now, they were only friends.

But sometimes, when she curled into a ball and watched the rainstorm outside, he would come over and wrap a warm arm over her skinny shoulders. In those moments, it didn't feel like just friendship.

…

…

_The earth will wave with corn  
the gray-fly choir will mourn  
And mares will neigh  
With stallions that they mate  
Foals they've borne_

…

…

On long evenings, they curled in an armchair, with just the fireplace lit and the candles burned down to ashes. The proximity was familiar now. She didn't mind the sound of his breathing, or the warmth of his breath on her neck.

It was August soon, but it felt like midwinter that wrapped them together like one blanketed package. _It's comfort_, she told herself, _that_ _allows him to put up with me. Comfort, and nothing more. He wants nothing to do with me and my childishness._

She listened to the fire crackle and his heart beat, and she knew she was safe, despite her misgivings. Safe from monsters, safe from nightmares, safe from heartbreak. And she knew that she would miss this at the end of the month.

And she still hadn't figured out how to tell him. These days, she wondered _what_ exactly she ought to tell him. Her heart wasn't sure anymore.

As she drifted off to sleep, simple words fell from her lips. "You've been broken too long."

The last conscious words she heard were with both their eyes closed and their lips an inch apart. "She isn't the one breaking me any more."

…

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_And all shall know the wonder  
I will sing the song of purple summer_

…

…

She turned the pages of the calendar with alarming swiftness, and before long, she saw the sunny picture of two pikachu with the caption 'August'. There was a crimson circle around the eighth, and she wondered at the horrible parody of it all.

Aside from the moon outside the window, all the light inside the room was orange, an incandescent glow from her lamp. It shown off her hair and made her strangely cold inside. It reminded her, oddly, of a bonfire. A farewell bonfire for an audience of one.

She had to tell him. But she didn't know the words to say, and she could barely muster the strength to stand, let alone speak.

Besides, he would probably turn her away anyhow. It wasn't worth risking the thing that they shared together, that bond of friendship not romance (but oh how she wished). Best to keep it simple and safe, even if words were left unspoken.

She put out the bonfire and went to sleep.

…

…

_And all shall know the wonder  
I will sing the song of purple summer  
_

…

…

The last day brought a cloud cover, threatening rain. She didn't know what to think anymore, about herself or about _them_.

Her dreams had not been kind to her lately. And when he picked up her bags and dragged them to the same carriage in which she had arrived, she noticed his unusually slumped shoulders, the sunken look to his eyes, as though he hadn't slept properly either.

She sat outside on the rail of a fence, already missing this place. It was too late, really. She already felt his presence fading, as though she was already gone. But she closed her eyes, and the smell of the flowers helped her keep her memories where they belonged.

"You never ate breakfast," he said, sneaking up on her. She looked up, startled, and saw that he held out a plate with some berries.

"I'll miss this place," she confided, moving over a bit so that he could sit down as well. He did not, instead standing with his hands on the rail. Together they looked out at the road and the field beyond. The grass was turning yellow, and the forest didn't smell like life anymore.

Finally, the carriage pulled up, and the man who drove it voicelessly hoisted her bags into the back. The brown-haired boy gently helped her off the fence and gently hugged her. The hug lasted the longest time, and she didn't want it to end. Nonetheless, he released her and guided her to the backseat. "I'll write," he promised, their fingers dangling off each other and finally falling into the open air.

She knew he was probably lying. He hadn't written before. He had never been one for talking much anyway.

Neither cried this time. No, that was for later. Instead, they just locked eyes. She didn't dare look away, in case he disappeared. And so the final image in her memory was of him with a flannel shirt and his hands in his jean pockets.

As she rounded the bend, face pressed to the glass with solemn green eyes, she realized that she still hadn't told him.

Maybe she never would.

…

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_All shall know the wonder of purple summer_


End file.
